


bury me in iron and ivy.

by greywarenspeaks (alloftimeandspace)



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: 300 Fox Way (Raven Cycle), Adam Parrish Is Trying His Best, Adam Parrish-centric, Cabeswater - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Ficlet, Inspired by the Raven Cycle, Magic, One Shot, POV Adam, POV Adam Parrish, Poetic, Post-Blue Lily Lily Blue, Pre-The Raven King, Tarot, Unknowable Adam Parrish, ronan lynch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:20:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23671462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alloftimeandspace/pseuds/greywarenspeaks
Summary: adam parrish: a study in survival. a magician in a universe of magic. adam parrish: forever surrounded by magic.or: cabeswater calls to adam. he finds something in the forest.
Kudos: 12





	bury me in iron and ivy.

**Author's Note:**

> _“If one squinted in Cabeswater long enough, in the right way, one could see secrets dart between the trees. The shadows of horned animals that never appeared. The winking lights of another summer's fireflies. The rushing sound of many wings, the sound of a massive flock always out of sight. Magic.”_

The static-tinted radio echoed into the afternoon sun that waded between the shadows of the garage from the open overhead door. He had longed for the breeze, knowing that it would die before long with the turn of mild spring to heavy Virginia summer, and had thrown the door open to tempt what fresh air he could find. The mid-afternoon quiet had settled across the grassy field behind the auto shop, drifting bird calls mixing with the radio noise and the metallic sounds that came from beneath a rusted beater of a car, underneath which lay Adam Parrish in a pair of secondhand jeans and a faded black tshirt from the depths of Ronan's closet. It was not missed, fortunately, as despite the care of the wearer, it had more than a few grease stains riddling the worn cotton. Then again, it still retained its sleeves, and thus Adam could only conclude that Ronan had forgotten it existed, or it would otherwise be mercilessly attacked with a pocketknife like the rest of his trademark black attire. 

The car, worse for wear, was taking most of his attention that afternoon. Cabeswater had been quiet lately, direction lacking, the only thing left to do seemed to be to fiddle with the more hopeless of the projects at the garage, blissfully alone thanks to it being a Sunday in a small town. A bead of sweat dripped slowly from his temple to his collarbone, his focus uninterrupted as he cradled a rusted wrench in the crook of his elbow and balanced his strength between the two offending pieces in the car's less-than-desirable frame. A sharp crack rang out against the concrete floors, but a moment's observation told him that the car above him wasn't the source of the noise. Adam jerked out from beneath the car and to his feet, glancing around, eyes dark with suspicion. 

His bag lay splayed across the concrete, tarot cards spilled out on the floor like a perfectly fanned playing deck. _Cabeswater, are you there?_ He reached for the cards, fingers buzzing with energy as he touched one, thumbed the worn corner, flipped it over, breath held. _Five of Pentacles_. The card's intention, Cabeswater's intention, was as clear as if it had been reflected in a mirror. Cabeswater was the easiest to read now, it seemed. Pentacles. Earth. Five of Pentacles. Need. _Come here, Adam. Cabeswater needs you._

Adam wasted no time. He scooped up the cards, slid the deck in his bag and threw it over his shoulder, ignoring the twitch behind his eye and the dead, ringing silence in his ear. The overhead door a slam behind him, he threw a leg over his bike and rode for Cabeswater like the night horrors were on his trail. Ronan would give him hell for going alone, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was no time to waste. Besides, who would expect Ronan to answer his phone? Even for Adam.

The winding road gave way to packed dirt that kicked up against his beaten shoes, the tires of his bike, the cuffs of his jeans, dangling frayed threads in dangerous proximity to the pedals. He steered the bike towards a familiar patch of grass and dropped it softly to the ground, barely making a noise in the quiet of the forest. It wasn't Cabeswater, yet, but he could feel the magic twisting ivy vines beneath his skin, coursing through Virginia-dirt-and-blood veins, digging into the ground beneath his every hurried footfall. The horizon trembled ahead where ground met sky, and he darted breathlessly between the clustered trees, oaks older than language itself towering in the cradled embrace of the slowly setting sun. 

Beneath the pink streaked sky, Adam Parrish found his footing again on the edge of Cabeswater's domain, feeling its grasp as soon as he reached what must be, somewhere beneath layers of dirt and rock and grass and bone, the Henrietta ley line. _Hurry, hurry._ Past streams running downhill into reflecting pools of strange fish, flocks of birds-eye butterflies nesting out-of-season in the lower boughs of the towering oaks, flowers growing in thick stalks rising six, seven, eight feet high into the sky. Though Cabeswater urged him forward, he could feel no danger in the wood itself; rather, it was more beautiful, more magical, _more alive_ , than he had seen it lately. Ivy twined up the trunks of the trees, wriggling in the wind like the lurid, leafy bodies of live snakes. If Cabeswater's normal tone was a whisper, the conversation now was a veritable howl, albeit one heard from a great distance. Still, Adam ran --

and stopped, all at once, skidding against the grass at the edge of the clearing. The clearing was formed of an almost perfect ring of ancient trees, all twined with snake-ivy, all rising towards the sky like outstretched arms, all whispering into the glen in Latin so hushed that Adam couldn't make it out. Propped against the base of the tree opposite him in the nature-made circle: an unframed mirror, glass foggy despite the sunlight and lack of wind. In front of the mirror, a black kitten lay on its back, paws kicked into the air as if chasing a flying insect, pink tongue darting out between baby teeth, so small that the wild grass almost swallowed its tiny frame. Adam hesitated at the edge of the circle, considering Gansey's knowledge of Celtic myths, warnings against circles in forests, Persephone's warnings against crossing in front of unknown mirrors. 

_I will protect you. You are of the Greywaren. You are my hands._ Adam tentatively toed the boundary of the circle. A branch cracked beneath his shoe, but nothing more. He reached for the kitten, who seemed unbothered and altogether unmagical in this so obviously magical forest. Curling the tiny creature in one hand, tanned from the sun and calloused from the shop, still faintly stained with grease and nail-bitten, altogether Adam Parrish, he turned to leave the circle. Back to the mirror, he heard the crack of a glass surface shattering. Turning, he found himself staring at his own reflection in the now-cracked mirror, still in the middle of the tree-circle, holding Cabeswater's fragile, mewling creature in his arms. 

Something had begun. What, he didn't know. Adam Parrish and Cabeswater's created kitten left the forest and rode without stopping to Fox Way, searching for answers.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! find me and/or request at brighteyesandblacklights.tumblr.com.


End file.
